


unspoken thoughts and unsung melodies

by seattlesunrise



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Post-Split
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:25:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3670662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seattlesunrise/pseuds/seattlesunrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was in that place between unconsciousness and thinking thoughts so insane they could only be the stuff dreams are made of. I was probably thinking about you, anyway, most of the time I am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	unspoken thoughts and unsung melodies

I was half asleep when you called me today. 

It was the middle of the day, and I was in that place between unconsciousness and thinking thoughts so insane they could only be the stuff dreams are made of. I was probably thinking about you, anyway, most of the time I am. I try to tell myself that I don’t but they always told me God knows when you’re lying, if god can see me that is. Maybe god exists for some people, but there never seemed (for us at least) to be any such thing. 

Anyway, the sound stirred me from my sleep, and I picked up the phone, not thinking for a second when your named showed up, even though it’s been years since it used to show up every day. I regretted answering the second I did. I told myself a few days after your birthday that I wouldn’t answer your calls because all I got from you that day was silence after I called. 

But it’s okay, it’s always okay. 

So I said hello and you said hi.

You called to ask me if I was going to our friend’s party. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe if I can get there. Maybe if I’m not busy. Maybe if I can gather up the courage to put a smile on my face and wave hello and pretend that I’m fine with that being the only words we say to each other anymore.  
But that’s okay, always okay. 

Maybe I can do it. After all, I’m dying just to see your face. I’m dying to see you smile after all that I put you through, 

But I don’t want to think about that now because your voice is smiling on the end of the line and nothing else matters. I ask about your family, you say what’s there to know that I already don’t. You tell me about her. Your voice is frowning and I can feel the exhaustion rolling of your skin but I can’t wipe it away anymore. It’s not where I belong anymore, and that’s okay, it is. I think everything but say nothing because by now I know better. I said too much, so you left me with never enough of you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. 

But I don’t want to think about that now because you’re laughing again, asking me what I’ve been doing, how I’ve been doing, who I’ve been doing. Usually my mind is faster than my mouth, but we both know that was never the case with you, so I tell you anyway. I tell you I’m good, great, travelling this summer, putting some miles between you and I (but I don’t tell you that). Tell you about people I’ve been with, more friends than anything else. I laugh to myself as I tell you (you don’t notice), because I miss your touch, your taste, your skin. Ironic I suppose.

But I don’t want to think about that now because you’re telling me she would be good for me because you think I’m lonely. You think I need someone. Oh well. I frown, good thing you were blind to my voice. Because I’m shouting out, I’m screaming, but only to myself. Maybe I am lonely, maybe I do need someone, but it will never be enough. And what’s the point of holding on to someone if they will want you to let go eventually. Love always goes. It dies or you die. Either way you’re fucked, so there’s no point, really. I tried to tell you that, but you didn’t want to listen. That, and, in my mind, your voice was always right. I wanted to trust you so badly that I forgot that I was fucked.

But I don’t want to think about that now. I’m thinking about how we always do this. You decide one day to stop hating me, so you call me up and I answer and we laugh without a care, forgetting everything that has lead us here. I hate it, and yet I can’t put the phone down. I hate you, but I don’t. I don’t want to say I love you, but they always told me God knows when you’re lying so what’s the point, really.

So now we go back to hating each other (or maybe that’s what we tell ourselves). I ask whose idea that was, the hating each other. You say it was a mutual thing. It’s funny because I can’t for the life of me remember when I decided that. But my memory’s fucked and you’re always right anyway so I laugh and I hear you smiling from miles away. 

Breathe.

Then you’re gone as fast as you came,  
and that’s okay. It has to be okay. 

I think about how you used to lay next to me and we’d talk about everything and nothing.  
I think about what changed, everything and nothing.  
I think about what we did to tear each other apart, everything and nothing. 

But I don’t want to think about that anymore. So I’ll get up, try and put you into words that you refuse to sing. Another song that’s already been written, already been sung, already been bought, sold, and forgotten. I’ll tell myself again that I’ve forgotten too, but then I’ll lay down in the same spot and be in that place between unconsciousness and thinking thoughts so insane they could only be the stuff dreams are made of, and I’ll let myself miss you again, but the phone stays silent. And I lay and think about the everything and nothing that lead us to this point,

but I don’t want to think about that anymore. So I’ll just smile at the fact that you’re probably smiling too somewhere, lighting up a room, a day, a soul. And that’s okay, that’s more than okay. I smile because you will never change. My light that never goes out.  
Me, I’m fading now, but I know your smile will stay the same as long as you are breathing.

So just smile, my boy, and I will be yours as long as you are breathing.

I'll see you soon, B.

**Author's Note:**

> So I guess this is a first, I've written stuff here and there, but all too rough for display. This is probably too rough too, but I wrote it in an hour and some change last night. I decided I liked it enough for a second opinion so let it all loose. Brendon calls Ryan. I think I wanted the point of view to be ambiguous until the end, but let me know how you felt about that. It's different when you write knowing you're writing Ryan but wanting it to be vague. Anyway, I digress. Inspired by a phone call I received earlier in the day yesterday. Enjoy x


End file.
